


Body Pillow 2 (Consequences Of The Terrible, No Good, Very Bad Decision)

by sciderman



Series: The Body Pillow Series [2]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: First Kiss, Humor, M/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2018-05-03 16:12:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5297795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sciderman/pseuds/sciderman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter Parker regrets absolutely everything he's done in his life that'd lead up to this point. (Direct sequel to the Body Pillow fic.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Body Pillow 2 (Consequences Of The Terrible, No Good, Very Bad Decision)

**Author's Note:**

> I blame [babybigsoprano](http://babybigsoprano.tumblr.com), mainly.   
> 

_Hi,_ I'm Peter Parker, and it's been 8-12 working days since the Deadpool incident.

(I'm calling it _the Deadpool incident_ , because recounting the details is just too painful for me.)

It's possible I was being overly dramatic. Or it’s even perfectly possible that the incident was some kind of stress-induced hallucination, because I've not seen Wade since. Not a glimpse.

...Not that I've been peering through my door regularly waiting for him to appear. Opposite of that, in fact. I've not left my apartment through the front door at all. I've been trying my best to avoid Wade at all costs. I definitely haven't been going up and down in the rickety, urine-fragranced elevator hoping at some point the scraped tin doors would slide open and he'd shimmy on in to join me.

Not a glimpse of friendly neighbour Wade Wilson.

But I hear tell Spider-man’s seen Deadpool recently though, and he looked giddy as ever. He didn't even say a word, it was just a gleeful smile (with sinister undertones, no doubt), before he disappeared between buildings.

Not that Spidey bothered trying to chase after him or anything. And he definitely wasn't patrolling the city high and low until 3 in the morning hoping to stumble upon the mercenary again.

That would be a _dumb_ thing to do.

So, I fumbled back into my room through the _far-too-small-and-I'm-getting-too-old-for-this window_ at 3 in the morning. Collapsing upon impact with my bed, my beat-up body a heap on my beat-up mattress. Too tired even to bother peeling my costume off my sweat-soaked skin. My eyes locked shut, arms stretching out to pull my recently purchased body pillow close to me.

Yeah, I hear your judgemental mutterings, but, in all honestly, this was one of the _best_ decisions I’ve ever made.

Hello, deep, heavenly sleep…

7AM, and there goes the doorbell.

...Nice while it lasted.

I shrugged my way to the miserable noise, cursing my life and my luck. Cursing that I’ll have the great misfortune of meeting the only other person in New York awake this early on a Saturday waiting behind my front door.

I threw open my door open after undoing my one measly chain, and scowled at the man who disrupted my more than well-deserved rest.

Mailman. It was a mailman. And he looked at me a little wide-eyed. Okay? Nobody looks picture-perfect first thing in the morning, pal. It’s something you’ve just gotta live with. I ran a gloved hand through my hair in a futile attempt to make myself look more presentable.

_Gloved_ hand.

I pulled the door fast, nearly off it’s hinges, to cover myself. Only my head popped through the crack in the door.

My suit. I was still in my spider-suit. _Oh_ , _god_. I gonked my head hard against my door, punishment for my stupidity.

“Spider-man super fan?” The timid mailman spoke up at last, with a grin, handing a large, elongated parcel through the doorway. It looked very familiar, for all the wrong reasons.

“I didn’t order anything.”

“Says here, Flat 62.” The mailman insisted, paying glances to the number on the door, and back to his little mailman monitor. I briefly imagined how painful it’d be for him, if I jammed it forcefully up his rear-end. Then, I smiled politely.

“Yes, but I didn’t _order_ anything.”

“Look, could you  _sign_ for the package? I’m just tryin’ to do my job here.” He pushed the box into my arms, then held out the monitor for me to sign, shaking the stylus impatiently.

Accepting defeat, I signed. Totally tempted to crack the screen, but I’ve got enough bad karma after me as it is.

“Enjoy, _Spidey_.” He threw a wave as he walked away, a bounce in his step.

Wonderful. My secret identity is blown.

Thankfully though, there are so many superhero fetishists in this city, that waking up in full Spider-man costume isn’t totally out-of-the-ordinary.

I hate and _love_ you, New York.

Begrudgingly, I scuffled my way back inside to examine the parcel. It was identical to–– No, it can’t be.

“抱き枕 (スパイダーマン)” was stamped in heavy writing on the side of the box.

I’m not great at Japanese, but I can read my own trademark, and that’s it. Spider-man. No wonder the mailman thought I was some kind of Spider-man nut. Is everyone in this city fluent in Japanese?

I spent a good long time staring in disbelief at the box. This ghost of questionable decisions past. Is… is this karma? Body pillow purchasing is a sin, pretty sure. What would Aunt May say? Knowing her dear nephew is drenched in sin?

I let out a long, suffering whine.

...Is this how it ends? Buried in a tomb of raunchy cushions?

This is a Spider-man one too. This is some nasty way of getting even.

At this point, I should really give up questioning just how the universe manages to always pull something out of it's ass to give me a hard time. There's just no shortage of tacks strewn on my racetrack.

When I finally pulled my miserable self back up from the couch, I decided to undress. With any hope, this spider-suit won’t be causing any more trouble today.

Oh, if only I were that lucky.

8AM and there goes the doorbell.

Stumbling straight back to the front door, after only having time to to toss on the very first reasonably-clean shirt I could find. Muttering curses under my, still unpleasant, morning breath.

For the second time, this chaotic morning, I yanked open the squealing door of my apartment. Disregarding the chain completely this time as it tore from the wall and clattered to the ground.

“ _Shit_.” I muttered, eyes down on the ground, kicking the broken chain away to the side, before my eyes moved up to address the visitor. Oh, _wonderful_.

The beam the man on the other side of the door wore was blinding. Like tugging the black-out curtains open in the morning, to let the searing light of the Sun in. And I’m not meaning that in a corny, romantic way at all. I mean that my facial features were physically pushed into an unflattering squint. I can’t deal with seeing this much glee on anyone’s face, this early.

“Good morning, _neighbour_.”

I don’t think I said anything immediately. Static in my ears– wasps in my brain– something. I’m losing my ability to form intelligent thought. Some may argue I’d never had that ability in the first place.

Mr Friendly Neighbour finally makes his appearance. Warm, scarred features brimming with optimism. It was an unwelcome but beautiful sight. I had no choice but to perceive it as a threat.

“...H-howdy.” I finally croaked out, glancing up and down the corridor to check for passer-bys, a precaution in the likely event I make a spectacle of myself again.

My head turned back to visit the invading parcel taking up space in my already small living room. I turned back to Wade, letting my mouth run away from my mind.

“I have a large package.”

“That is _wonderful_ news.”

I coughed. Wade bit his lip a little, bouncing on his heels, like a child. As though he were waiting for the perfect time to blurt out the punchline. My body deflated in an instant, with a large, stressed sigh.

“...It’s _yours_ , isn’t it?”

The toothy smile that took Wade’s face made my chest tighten. Ugh, no. Correction: It made me feel sick. But, like, not unpleasantly sick. Like, light nausea on a joyful boatride. Like swinging above New York city on a string for the first time.

“Actually, I came to borrow a cup of sugar.”

“Well, you can get your _sugar_ someplace else.” I grumbled, turning away, half-hearting the act of shutting the door in his face. Of course, he jammed his foot in the way. Looking down, he was wearing Captain America-patterned socks. No shoes, so that must’ve hurt.

“Okay, yes. It’s my package.” He stuck his head through the crack in the door, as best he could. Incidentally, it was embarrassingly close to my face. That wasn’t enough to make me move away, though. His voice was husked, and breath warm. “What a coincidence we’re in this situation again though, huh? Almost like a cute fanfic trope.”

“It was _addressed_ to me.”

“Oooh! Okay, you got me again. Just evening things out. Especially since you never took me up on my offer.” He frowned, overplaying it for comedic effect. “Heartbreak, much? Turn me down outright, dude, don’t just avoid me. Of course I had to resort to drastic measures to see your beautiful face again.”

I let out a scandalous groan.

“You gonna let your hunky new neighbour in? Or are you gonna turn me away again?”

I think I _hate_ you, Mr Friendly Neighbour.

_“Come in,_ why don’t you?”

I threw the door open again, standing behind the door. Quicky kicking my boots off, out of sight. Web-patterned boots may be overseen by mailmen, but Wade might not be so easily convinced.

Wade padded into my apartment, eyes quick to explore the place, and my spine suddenly tightened in apprehension. This is Deadpool. I just let _Deadpool_ into my home. I completely forgot what I was getting myself into. I hate when I do that. For once, Parker, could you just think before you act?

Too late to back out now. I closed the door softly behind him, as he stood in the doorway of the living room, looking back at me.

“Nice tights.” Wade said, and I looked down fast. I was still wearing the lower half of my suit. Thankfully, without the boots, it was recognisable only as your average, ordinary blue leggings.

“––Shame you’re not still wearing the rest of the suit.”

I froze. It was like an alarm ringing in my mind. A fire alarm. Screaming. Or is that me? Am I audibly screaming right now? I’ve got good reason to be.

“Saw you this morning. You looked great. Almost as good as the real thing, honest. Spandex kink? I can dig it.”

Almost as good as the real thing. _Almost_ as good as the real thing? Wade’s screwing with me here, isn’t he? Wade’s champion at playing dumb. Actually, he’s almost as good as I am. Except I typically forget whether I’m just great at playing dumb, or it’s the genuine truth. After this fiasco, I’m starting to be convinced of the latter.

“If you _saw_ why didn’t you _say_ anything?” I scowled, tugging down at my shirt, as if I were nude. I might as well have been.

“All part of the plan, _baby boy_.” His voice was sickeningly sweet. "Say, how did your _friend's charity_ like your purchase?" 

I’m gonna _beat up_ this guy. Why am I into him? Wait, I’m not admitting to that. I’m not into him at all. I need to get this guy out of my life, right now. Right freaking _now_.

“The box is in the living room.” I said, walking past him. “ _Spider-man_. Nice choice. You do realise I’m Spider-man’s official photographer, right? I could rat out on you.”

“Are you _threatening_ me?”

I nodded slowly, wearing the smuggest grin I could muster.

“I’m sure Spidey’ll be disappointed to hear that his official photographer is hoarding _Deadpool_ merch, too. That’s some kind of betrayal.”

_“He’ll get over it.”_

Somewhere along this spill of threats, we had progressively gotten closer, voices softer and darker, until they were husk whispers. These were never threats, were they? We were actually just _flirting_. How did I miss that?

Fact was, my brain was shut off right up till the point Wade’s mouth was on mine. In fact, it remained shut off right through the duration of it too. I don’t even know if it was Wade who initiated it, or if it was...  _me_. It came naturally. Like that was the only logical move we could’ve made. Only it’s _not_ logical. It’s the complete _opposite_ of logical.

_Jeesh,_ Parker. Why do you keep finding yourself in situations like this? Next thing you know, the Sinister Six’ll burst right through that wall, and then burst out laughing. Maybe Wade was hired by somebody to put the moves on me, find out my secrets.

But, _boy_ , was he an impressive kisser. It was almost enough to let me forgive him for kissing me in the first place. Nowhere near enough for me to forgive him for pulling away.

I fell back against the wall, when the warmth withdrew from me. There was a high, screeching sound that I eventually realised was escaping my mouth along with the remainder of my _soul_ , as I slid down the wall. Face probably about as red as my Spider-man suit. My foot unknowingly toppled over the box carrying Wade’s delivery. 

This time it took down some porcelain ornaments Aunt May brought from her travels, as it fell. Those were probably _antique_. 

Even still, Wade didn't peel his eyes off of me for the briefest second. 

"...I'm making breakfast. You have no choice. This is a _hostage_ _situation_." 

When I finally deemed myself capable of simulating human communication again, I choked out my response.

" _By all means_ , commandeer my kitchen."


End file.
